The End of Days
by WhimsicDoctor13
Summary: What if Odysseus hadn't been able to restrain himself from killing Polyphemus, and hadn't thought of being trapped in the cave? How would this effect Ithaca and the future? For an English Assignment. First fanfic ever uploaded ever, please be nice.


With a furious roar, the enormous one-eyed monster swooped his hands at the crew and took up a strong man in each meaty fist as if they were toys.

"I demand you deliver us gifts, beast! As warrior of Greece and ruler of Ithaca, I command you to follow tradition and gratefully shower us with offerings!" Odysseus continued to yell. "And put down my men before I disembowel you and stab out your liver as an offering to the Gods! You'll be lucky if I let you escape with both ears attached to that hideous cranium of yours after showing your guests such disrespect!" he called up to the beast haughtily.

The creature's one eye stared at the man in anger, but mostly disbelief that this pompous idiot would dare insult him. Then, without another thought, he whacked the screaming men on the stone floor of the cave, cracking their heads open like eggs smashed on the road, silencing their terrified screams and their captain's yelled demands.

The entire crew of men sat in stunned, horrified silence as Polyphemus slowly ate each dead man, ripping them apart with his huge mangled teeth, crunching on the bones like they were merely pomegranate pips. A few of the men's stomach emptied, but Odysseus merely stared, shocked. He had been disobeyed- _disrespected_- by a mere _beast_, a Cyclopes, an accident of nature. The Mighty Odysseus, who had led the Greeks from the wooden horse and slaughtered the foolish Trojans as they slept in their beds, the fools. As the Cyclopes began to slurp the entrails, Odysseus's shock gave way to a burning rage, fiercer then he had ever thought was possible.

_No. This creature that is worth less than the dirt on my feet, this Hell-Beast from the depths of Tartarus, will _not _disobey me. It has had the impertinence to refuse me offerings, trap me here, and now it has murdered two of the men who were going to help get me home. _His heart turned black as Ares, who had long ago taken residence there, awoke at the tapping of his fury. _I have been away from Ithaca, my home, for over ten years. This thing is NOT keeping me here a second longer! _His thoughts roared as Nemesis flew into his chest to reside there with Ares. She whispered in Odysseus's head her cunning plan for revenge, but Ares screamed louder of bloodshed and hurt and battle. The heat of the war God's words to Odysseus struck a spark in his head, and he looked over at a sharpened staff in the corner, an idea igniting. He picked up the spear and smiled. Tonight, the beast would die.

As the cracks around the boulder lost their light, Odysseus poured the wine he had kept into a large bowl. He approached the cyclopes with a dark glint in his eyes, lifting up the bowl of dark red as a peace offering to the one eyed giant. The aroma of the fine wine tempted the monster beyond suspicion, and soon he passed out, intoxicated. Odysseus's mask of merry-making fell to the floor like a shell as he stood over the beast, holding the sharp staff he had made red hot in the fire. Hate burned in his heart, passionate and self righteous as the burning staff he held. He wanted this beast dead. It would pay.

The crew stared at him, some confused, others afraid. Odysseus looked coldly at the monster's unconscious form, and lifted the steaming staff directly above his liver.

Polyphemus's soft brown eye opened just as the spear descended.

The beast roared in agony as the burning thing pierced his flesh, popping with gore and heat. Odysseus sprang back with catlike agility as the Cyclopes writhed, screaming as his liver exploded and it's toxins escaped into his bloodstream. He tried to sit up to lash out but it skyrocketed the already abhorrent pain. Mad with suffering, he flailed, trying to grab his attacker, but the men hid in the back corners of his enormous cave among the sheep. He screamed and screamed until his throat grew raw.

Down in the valley below, Polyphemus's neighbors heard the screams streaming across the valley like a tidal wave when their father was angry. The rocks betrayed him, causing his one agonized cry to sound like several. "Men in his cave again," they would say. "So unlucky. They always do give him the most trouble. Mayhaps he'll save us some leftovers of their carcasses tomorrow." And they went back to their work.

After the light around the boulder shone the color of salmon from the stream of his childhood, Polyphemus finally stopped struggling, having barely enough strength to move a hand. His breaths came in quiet gasps, his skin turned a mottled yellow like a half eaten apple left out in the sun. In delirium, he slowly stretched out his arm, and the crew fell back in a panic, but the huge arm didn't move to them. Polyphemus lay his hand among his beautiful flock of sheep, their coats shining like his mother's eyes had been when she was tranquil.

"My poor flock," the powerful Polyphemus murmured, stroking them gently with his finger, "The green meadows are so far away. However will you graze now?" he rasped woefully. The flock clustered around their master's hand, licking and bleating placidly. The oldest, a ram who's fleece was interwoven with gold strands, gazed mournfully at his dying sovereign.

"My dear old ram," Polyphemus licked his lips, "you have been with me the longest. A descendant of Poseidon, after he sired your mother by Theophane." The Cyclopes' leather brown face cracked a sad smile.

"My brother," he breathed. "Do you remember the stream? The stream with the fish and the pollywogs and the green green grass." Polyphemus sighed. "You would graze all day long." He swallowed. "I'm sorry." the cyclopes whispered.

Odysseus slowly walked up to the fallen creature, and stood beside Polyphemus's carriage sized head. The brown eye rolled to look over at him.

"Who are you?" he croaked at his killer.

The soldier stared at his defeated foe. "I am Odysseus."

The Cyclopes grinned in triumph, but there was more bitterness than victory there. "You die here, Odysseus. You kill yourself."

Laerte's son gazed at the beast a while longer, that sickening rage flaring again, and he lifted his dagger, propelling it into the beast's throat. Polyphemus choked and went still, a small stream of salt water pooling from his one eye.

No sooner had the cyclopes ceased to breathe, but the man from the crew looked at their means of escape and cried out- it _had _been their means of escape, but in his rage, Odysseus had let hot-headed Ares speak to him over the cunning Nemesis, and had neglected to notice the full potential of the rock. The mini mountain that blacked out the light and the air and escape.

They worked for hours. Days, maybe. Pushing and slamming and hammering, all of them together, and their strength was nothing to match the cyclopes that now stank up the cave with his rotting flesh in the stuffy heat. Many, stubborn in their endeavor, kept pushing the rock long after all hope had been abandoned. Two died from exhaustion, rather than the slow, torturous death that awaited them.

At first the crew was shocked at the reality of their fate. After surviving the Trojan war, they would die a shameful death of starvation and possible suffocation in one of the farthest corners of the earth where the sun didn't shine, never to see their homes or kin again. Then, they raged. They screamed and fought until one man lay dead, one of the youngest they'd picked up near the end of the war, Hamaretus, only twenty-three years old. Then, they sat in silence, horrified and scared.

The wheels of cheese were finished within a week, rinds and all. The sheep had already begun to die of starvation, their carcasses littering the floor before they were torn apart by the starving crew. More fights broke out, but no one else was killed until the old ram drew it's last breath, the last of the herd. A bloody battle broke out over the desperation for the meat, and six people were killed in the bloodbath. As the months wore on, the madness of each man increased with every mouthful of murdered human flesh they ate to preserve themselves.

Odysseus did nothing to stop them. He was the cause of it. The one eyed demon had prophesied him killing himself, and that was what happened. Months later, Odysseus found himself cradling the body of faithful old Mycenus, one of the first to join his army, the last of his crew to die of thirst and hunger. Even then, Odysseus did not weep. It was inevitable. The air was scarce, barely renewing itself from the crack around the inevitable boulder. He could feel his end coming.

On a day the light shone in the buttery gold of Penelope's tresses, a beam of life shone into the cave. Odysseus tried to struggle up, to find the new exit, a way out at last, but was unable to get his legs to move. If he had been able to stand up, he would have seen that there was none. Instead, from the beam grew a figure, clothed in shining battle armor and golden olive branches, her dark hair flowing from underneath a golden helmet and her gray eyes fierce and wise and terrifying.

"Son of Laertes," boomed Athena, "you disappoint me. You had such wisdom and resourcefulness; I favored you. I would have helped you reclaim your throne."

The dying former ruler of Ithaca said nothing.

"Instead," Athena said, eyes flashing disdainfully, "you let bloodshed and impulse take over your head, proving your intellect nothing at all. You became a beast, nothing more, with no sense of foresight, just as useless and stupid as the heated soldiers and the son of Poseidon you have slain." Her beautiful white face shone with disgust.

"Why are you here?" rasped the son of Laertes.

"I am here to show you what will become of your actions. Mayhap the three fates will be kind to you, and you may seek your penance in the afterlife by choosing to be reborn." the goddess said. "Come with me."

Odysseus stared at her, not willing to kill the last shred of dignity he kept.

Athena's form flared and grew, her eyes more terrifying then a gorgon's.

"That was an order, Son of Laertes!"

Unable to do anything else, he reached out and let the Goddess's light seize him. His form rushed over oceans and land, until he stood in the courtyard of a place both bittersweet and familiar.

_Ithaca._ he thought.

_Yes, _the goddess's voice resounded in his head. _The land that is now lost to you._

_But I'm here. _he almost pleaded. _I see it!_

A stab of angry heat within his mind. _Don't be a fool._

And indeed, it looked different and wrong in some way. He looked around; the castle was in dusty ruins, the roof cracked open like the top of an egg smashed on the pavement.

_Where is Penelope?_

A nudge came at his mind, and he looked over to see a crypt, cracked and aged and covered in foliage. He could just read her name on it. His heart lurched sickeningly.

_What happened to her? _he asked helplessly.

_Time. _Athena responded within him. _Time and hurt. She waited. When you didn't return, she had many suitors after her. She refused all of them until they lost their patience and fell upon her, and they elected a new ruler. She bore one of their bastards and was forced to marry the new king that went on to lead Ithaca into ruin. She died waiting._

His stomach would have emptied had he been substantial, even though there was nothing in it. His entire being screamed for her, for his ever faithful wife who always believed that her husband would come home. He had never known such pain, and never thought it possible to do so.

_Take it away. _Odysseus moaned. _It can't have happened already._

_This is what is inevitable, Son of Laertes. _Athena stated bluntly. _This is the future, the consequence of your death._

He breathed deeply, his last ray of light coming to mind.

_What of my son? What of Telemachus?_

Faster then the last breath on the lips of a dying man, he was spun away again. He could feel the whole of time passing before him, centuries even, maybe even millennia, he had no idea. At last everything came to a still. The castle had vanished to nothing but crumbling rocks.

_Where is he? _Odysseus asked, fearing what he would see.

Athena stretched out her arm. Following it, there was nothing there. Nothing there but lump. Something fluttered inside Odysseus's ethreal form. Stepping closer, the lump grew more defined, with wizened arms and legs, a patchy head, and a body so old it looked like it had cracked several times and been hopelessly glued back together.

The ancient man sat alone. every bone in his body poking out in some way or the other, and his old face withered as dead fruit. Odysseus looked into the decrepit figure's eyes that stared blankly ahead. And though they were coated over with the white wall of absolute blindness, Odysseus immediately saw who he used to be.

He jerked away. _Oh Gods, Oh Gods, my son, my son. _he nearly sobbed at the terrible state he saw his son in. _Telemachus. _he whispered, but his son didn't hear.

_He was kept alive by the gods, to punish you for your actions, and to teach mankind about what you did. He told your story of failure. _the Goddess said coldly.

_He now goes by another name, after the place you never were able to make it to._

Odysseus lurched, still too shocked to cry. He could feel his real body losing it's hold on his soul. As much as it hurt, he wanted to slip away here, with his son and his home at last, no matter what state they were in. He had made it home at last, though it was ruined.

_No. _said Athena. _You will be returned to where your fate was sealed. Your last punishment of life will to have your end in that cave, so far from home_

_Please, _he begged. _Let me stay, I've made it home._

_No, Odysseus. _said Athena quietly. _You never did._

With that, he was swept back, painfully ripped from the insubstantial plane, screaming all the way until he found himself alone, back in the dark of Polyphemus's cave, his heart beating it's last beat.

Only then did Odysseus cry.


End file.
